"Nom de Dieu!" gasped Vasili faintly, clutching his companion's sleeve. "You saw, Allard, you saw?"
Allard saw. He saw Stanief's oath of allegiance given and received, he saw the second embrace which welcomed it; he heard the Emperor's graceful speech of thanks for the long service completed now. But no one except Stanief himself caught the murmured answer to the quaint, earnest phrases of feudal loyalty:
"For the second time, Feodor."
And to the listener the cathedral faded momentarily at the reminder; the rose-hued salon of the Nadeja closed around.
The rest of the affair passed more rapidly. Adrian took Iría's hands as she came to him and kissed her on both cheeks. After that the others came and went, the superb swirl and current rushed on. Once only the eyes of Allard and Stanief met across the broad space, and if they exchanged wordless relief, they held no other feeling in common, for Stanief had never trusted nor understood his cousin less, while Allard had refound the Adrian he knew—the Adrian of evening drives and bitter-sweet kindness.
In the departure from the cathedral there came a brief confusion and rearrangement.
"You will ride with me," Adrian said to his late Regent, on the steps.
"Sire—"
"Take care; I am too new an autocrat for contradiction."
So Iría went surrounded by her butterfly ladies, and Stanief rode by the Emperor's side during that bewildering return.